Tracking Bear

by Thurlo, David

  Ella nodded. “I’m going to take a look around.” As they climbed out of the unit, they saw a woman walking a small brown-and-white dog.

  The lady came closer. “If you’re trying to find Professor Franklin, he’s gone. I think he was going camping. I saw him packing his supplies early this morning.”

  “Any idea when he was coming back?” Ella asked. As she flashed her badge, she noticed that the dog was staring at the Franklin house, growling softly.

  “Quit that, Hannibal!” She looked back at Ella. “I’m afraid I can’t help you there, Officer. He never said. My name is Elsie Springer, and I live two houses down. I’m retired, so I try to keep an eye on things for my neighbors.”

  As Mrs. Springer walked away with her dog, Ella took a deep breath and let it out again. “Let’s take a close look around the property before we go. I have a bad feeling about this.”

  “You think he left town so he wouldn’t have to answer questions?”

  “The thought occurred to me, but what worries me most is that I think he had an idea all along about who killed his son. If my gut instinct is right, he withheld information from us because he wanted to deal with the killer himself.”

  “He’s an incredibly intelligent man. He wouldn’t go off half-cocked that way,” Justine said.

  “No, he’d plan things well, but as bright as Professor Franklin is, I don’t think he’s factoring in how ruthless this killer is prepared to be. The criminal mind has a different type of intelligence—the feral kind that’s programmed to survive. I have a feeling that Franklin’s going to find himself hopelessly out-matched.”

  As they walked around the side of the house, Ella studied the windows, and even tried to open two of them. They were firmly locked. But when they reached the back, they discovered the door was wide-open.

  Recalling the dog growling at the house earlier, Ella undid the strap of her holster but didn’t draw her weapon. Justine did the same. As they drew closer, they both saw an indentation in the middle of the door and realized that the doorjamb had been splintered around the locking mechanism. With their backs pressed to the wall, they remained perfectly still and listened. Silence enveloped them, interrupted only by the sporadic cry of a bird somewhere outside.

  Holding one finger up, Ella signaled Justine that she’d go in first. Pistol drawn and crouching low, Ella slipped inside.

  As she entered the kitchen, she heard the sound of someone opening drawers in the next room over—the living room. Ella moved forward silently, then, crouching behind a sofa, spotted a tall figure wearing dark glasses, a baseball cap, and what looked like a jogging suit bent over a desk. “Police! Don’t move!”

  The thief spun around and fired two quick shots, forcing Ella to flatten. Justine, who was coming through the doorway, fired back, then ducked and rolled behind an easy chair.

  As Ella brought her pistol around the side of the sofa to take aim, she could hear the intruder already on the move. An instant later, he hit the front door and raced outside. Ella followed, but another bullet struck the doorjamb, forcing her down again.

  When Ella looked up, the shooter was on the run again, racing full speed down the sidewalk. She was after him in a heartbeat, racing out the gate and parallel to the fleeing figure. She was gaining ground by the time they passed a second house, but then he veered to the right at the intersection and jumped a three-foot-high cinder-block wall. Turning, now behind cover, the intruder fired another shot, forcing Ella to stop and crouch low, hugging the wooden fence beside her.

  Another bullet whined by her ear, and she heard a dull smack she recognized as the sound of a windshield breaking. Turning her head, she saw an oncoming sedan swerve abruptly, heading right toward her.

  “Oh crap!” Ella dived over the fence, landed hard beside the base of a tree, then rolled behind the trunk. The car struck the curb and leaped up onto the sidewalk, coming to a halt halfway through the fence, less than four feet from her.

  Ella looked over for the shooter, but the person was gone. With barely enough time to take a breath, she stepped back over the fence and ran to the driver, who was screaming hysterically.

  It took a few seconds to calm the middle-aged Anglo woman enough for her to see she was now safe. Despite the fact that the bullet had struck the windshield, the woman’s only visible injuries were a few facial cuts from the glass that had sprayed into the vehicle. The bullet had ricocheted off the windshield, and would probably never be found.

  Justine arrived then and called for paramedics, while Ella ran on to pick up the thief’s trail. A hurried look around the block made it clear that he was long gone.

  Justine caught up to her a few minutes later. “The driver is all right, apparently, but she’s pretty upset. She’s sitting on the porch of that house with the neighbor. I spoke to the woman when she came out, but she didn’t see or hear anyone breaking into the professor’s home. She heard the first shots, saw the intruder run past her house, then heard the car crashing over the curb.”

  “Let’s go talk to the other neighbors and see if anyone saw anything useful,” Ella said. “You’ve called the Farmington PD, right?

  “Yeah, and Sheriff Taylor will be coming on behalf of the county. We’ve been asked to secure the scene until the crime unit people get here, then begin canvassing the neighborhood for witnesses.”

  Justine remained outside Professor Franklin’s home, and Ella began checking with the neighbors. Neither one of Franklin’s immediate neighbors was home, and no one down the street had seen anything except for the lady who was with the accident victim, and the retired woman they’d spoken to earlier. She’d greeted them clutching her small dog, but although she’d heard the shots from down the block, she hadn’t seen anyone.

  When the first officer arrived, a Farmington Police Department patrolman, Ella gave him a description of the suspect she’d seen. Unfortunately, she’d never been close enough to get a good look at his face.

  Taylor arrived just after the EMTs, surprisingly quickly, and met Ella and Justine on the front lawn of Franklin’s home. Ella recounted to Sheriff Taylor what had happened while Justine helped the FPD officer string up the crime-scene tape.

  “What made you take a look around?” Taylor pressed, already familiar with her investigation into Jason Franklin’s murder. “Were you expecting trouble?”

  “Not really. But we haven’t been able to find the professor, and I need to question him.”

  “You’re still looking for a break in his son’s case?”

  “Yeah, and the other deaths as well. I’m not sure what part Professor Franklin has played in everything, but I’m virtually sure that he’s been holding back on me.” She gave him a quick update on NEED and everything she’d learned.

  “Farmington PD will be responsible for handling this break-in and the shooting, but why don’t we go into the house and have a look around?”

  “Yeah. The possible connection between what happened today and my murder investigation gives us the perfect excuse.”

  Before going inside, Ella checked with the Farmington cop and got his okay. Then, wearing latex gloves, she went inside with Taylor. Ella stopped by the open hall closet. Franklin’s coat was gone. Justine checked the bedroom and came out a moment later. “His drawers are almost empty, so he either doesn’t have much, or he’s taken most of his winter stuff with him.”

  Ella checked in the den. The rifle rack hung on the wall was empty, and a small shelf underneath had the clear outline in the faint dust of where a cartridge box had probably been.

  “Did the thief have the rifle when he left?” Justine asked.

  “Not with him. Only a small pistol, a semiauto. He wasn’t carrying anything else either that I could see. I figure that he’d just begun his search when we surprised him.”

  “There should be shell casings around, Ella. The shooter didn’t have time to pick them up,” Justine pointed out.

  A quick search located one casing beside the desk where the perp
had been searching. “It’s a .380,” Ella pointed out after taking a close look. “Why isn’t that a surprise?”

  “Same caliber was used to kill Robert Whitesheep, though we didn’t find a casing there. Did I tell you that already?” Taylor asked.

  “No. When can Justine have a look at the bullet?” Ella asked.

  “It’ll be another day, maybe two. The body was sent to Albuquerque for the autopsy, and we haven’t heard back yet, except for a few details. There was a preliminary examination by the Office of the Medical Investigator,” Taylor said, “and we got a fax this morning.”

  Leaving the discovered shell casing in position for the Farmington crime lab team, they continued to look around, splitting up. They met again in a few minutes.

  “Franklin’s refrigerator is nearly empty, and the only food I found in the cupboard are cans of lima beans and sauerkraut,” Justine said. “He must have taken the nonyucky stuff with him. My guess is that he has gone camping, just as his neighbor said.”

  “Or into hiding.” Ella stood by Franklin’s desk, looking at an empty spot beside a relatively new desktop computer, monitor, and combination scanner/printer. “Something was kept here,” she said, looking down at a dust-free area on the desk. “From the size and shape, my guess is that it was a laptop computer.”

  “Strange camping trip…” Justine said.

  “Maybe the thief took the laptop and left the heavy stuff?” Taylor suggested, coming up behind her.

  “No way. I would have noticed, even if he’d stuck it beneath his jacket,” Ella said.

  Justine studied the equipment. “His scanner and desktop are expensive models. If I’d been the thief, I would have taken them, even if it meant parking a vehicle in the drive.”

  “I don’t think this was an ordinary thief,” Ella said as she wandered around the room. “I think this crime is linked to the burglaries on the Rez and Jason Franklin’s death. The same caliber gun keeps popping up everywhere. I can’t wait to get a look at one of the bullets, and the one from the Whitesheep shooting.”

  By then, the FPD crime-scene unit had arrived, and one of the officers was taking photographs while another tech was surveying the scene.

  Ella saw the tech examining the holes in the wall where both of the shooter’s bullets had apparently lodged. “Since you’ll probably have more than one round for immediate examination, will you sign one of the rounds over to me for twenty-four hours? I’d like to compare it to other rounds we recovered at a crime scene. One of the professors at our college had a burglar take a shot at him, and I’d like to see if both came from the same gun. The caliber is the same, we know that already.”

  “All right, if my supervisor says okay. But he’ll want the evidence back promptly and a full report on whatever you find.”

  He checked with his superior, then recovered the round for Justine, who completed the proper paperwork before returning to Ella. “If Kee Franklin has gone into hiding, do you think it’s possible that instead of planning to go after the killer, he’s actually afraid he’ll be next?”

  “He may be afraid, Justine, but he’s not running, or he would have just gone off without all the supplies. My guess is that he went away to some favorite spot of his to plan out strategy so he can play things his way.”

  “Three deaths and so many break-ins, shootings, and burglaries… Who is behind this, and what the heck are we up against?”

  “I don’t know yet, but this is all connected to NEED and Kee Franklin. Our job now is to make sure that no one else ends up dead.”

  Twenty

  While Justine went to work in the lab to check out the bullet and do a comparison, Ella tracked down Officer Judy Musket, Kee Franklin’s friend. Ella found her at a desk compiling quarterly crime records for a required report.

  Judy greeted her with a smile and swiveled around in her chair to face Ella. “What can I help you with today, Ella?”

  “Judy, I’ve been trying to find Kee Franklin, and he doesn’t seem to be at home. Do you have any idea where he might be?”

  Judy nodded. “He told me he was going camping for a week or two. He needed some time alone after the loss of Jason. He’ll be back once he gets his head clear.”

  “Do you know where he goes camping?” Ella asked.

  Her affable expression changed into one of concern. “What’s going on?”

  “We just need to talk to him,” Ella said, deciding to keep the news of the break-in and shooting incident at Franklin’s home from Officer Musket until Justine got the results of the ballistics comparison.

  “I really wish I could help you, Ella, but he’s done it before, and all he’s ever told me is that he doesn’t go very far. The only clue I can give you is that he won’t be in any camping grounds. It’s mostly likely a place where he won’t come in contact with anyone else. Check isolated areas still accessible to SUVs like his.”

  “Thanks. If you hear from him, please have him contact me immediately.”

  “Sure, but I doubt that’ll happen until he gets back.”

  With a nod, Ella left Judy at her work and walked out. As she went down the hall, she noticed that Justine’s lab door was closed, indicating she was still working on the evidence.

  Mentally trying to find a connecting thread between all the crimes lately, Ella headed out the side door to her unit. She was hoping that the bullet recovered at Kee’s house would match the one used to kill Jason, and maybe the ones used to kill Billy Redhouse, Robert Whitesheep, and shoot up the college storeroom. It would be one piece of solid evidence connecting the burglaries and the robbery of the Quick Stop.

  That’s why she needed to talk to Wilson, who’d also had dealings with Kee Franklin. Maybe together they’d be able to figure out what the killer was looking for.

  Ella pulled into the visitor’s parking area, then headed directly to Wilson’s office inside one of the large hogan-styled college buildings. Wilson’s door was locked, and he wasn’t there, but she could hear him lecturing in the classroom next door.

  She listened for a while, standing just outside the open door. Wilson was a charismatic professor, and didn’t lecture his students as much as he presented, questioned, and discussed a topic, getting them involved in the process of learning. She knew he also placed a lot of emphasis on student activities and laboratory work, what he called “hands-on” learning, which made his courses especially popular and valuable to the college as well.

  Class was over ten minutes before the hour. Wilson answered a few more questions for students who had come to his podium, actually a large table with visual aids. Then, seeing Ella, he came over to meet her as the last student walked away.

  “Hey, it’s good to see you, Special Investigator Clah. What brings you here in the middle of the day?”

  “Same old—business,” Ella answered with a smile.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I need to know if you’ve spoken to Professor Franklin recently.”

  Wilson shook his head. “No, as a matter of fact, I called him the other day and left a message, but he hasn’t gotten back to me. I was going to invite him to make a presentation. I’m teaching a section on molecular biology and its relationships to chemistry and physics, and I wanted him to give the students his views.”

  “If Kee gets in touch with you, ask him to call me immediately. I need to ask him several questions. It’s very important.”

  “Sure,” Wilson said, placing his materials in a box he had under the table, then carrying it with him as he led the way into the storeroom via a back door.

  “Wilson, think back to all the lectures Kee gave here. He used the classroom we just left, correct?”

  “Yes.” They continued through the storeroom until Wilson found a particular spot on the shelves to place his materials.

  “And you said he brought in his own materials, too. Did he bring them in a briefcase?”

  “No, he’d bring two or three boxes, which had everything he’d need. He’d unp
ack them after he got here, set them up on the demonstration table in the classroom, make his presentation, then take his stuff away with him afterward.”

  “Think hard. Are you sure he didn’t leave anything behind?”

  “He’d bring a couple of boxes and leave with a couple of boxes. I only paid attention during his lectures.”

  “Did he unpack his materials in this storeroom?”

  “Yeah, I suppose.” He paused, his expression one of concentration as he tried to remember. “I know he didn’t have the boxes with him in the classroom, so he must have set them somewhere. He went back and forth from classroom to storeroom several times during each visit.”

  “Have you taken a real hard look around here to verify that there’s nothing belonging to Professor Franklin?”

  “Ella, look around. There are, what, ten rows with metal shelf units on each side, and there are five shelves per unit. There are hundreds of boxes in here of different sizes, plus rows of books, workbooks, and papers, some in boxes, most not. It would take me months, and annoy nearly everyone when they found I was looking through their materials. A lot of professors keep their stuff there, and others outside the department often borrow space. I must have fifty boxes here myself just along the aisle closest to the door to my office. I store grade books, copies of notes, and student projects I wanted to keep for one reason or another in this area.” He paused, taking a breath. “The chances of Dr. Franklin leaving some valuable materials behind in here are pretty slim. Everything about the man is organized, Ella. It’s the way his brain is wired.”

  “I’m not talking about an oversight or accident. He might have hidden something in here purposely. I really need you to look through the storeroom and see if you can find something that belongs to him, or that doesn’t belong here at all.”

  “All right,” he answered with a beleaguered sigh as he opened the storeroom and waved her inside.

  “Do you, by any chance, have any idea where the professor would go camping?”

  Wilson thought about it for a few minutes, then shook his head. “We never spoke about hobbies or personal stuff like that. He came to do a job, and he did it very well, but he wasn’t chatty.”